


Key Fishing

by Cheeseslicer



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Based on a True Story, Locked Out, M/M, Mickey's POV, Sort of AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 21:52:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3334172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheeseslicer/pseuds/Cheeseslicer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey gets locked out and Ian comes to his rescue. They get the key back using a rather alternative method.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Key Fishing

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for considering reading this! I appreciate it. Just so you know, this is based on a true story. Not the whole meeting a god of a guy part, but the thing with the key. I did it and OMG I was so happy after. So just wanted to say it works.  
> Also English is not my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes. Feel free to correct me if something is wrong.

He tried the handel again. No, still not open. A feeling of annoyance and desperation threatened to surface. He started to feel in his pockets again, searching for the hard and cold familiar metal. He came up empty handed. His stress level slightly rose, imagining what would happen if he could not get on the other side of that door. It was so typical, he didn't need this now. The day had been bad enough already.

Mickey looked at the locked door, trying to use will power to open it. What he wouldn't give to be a ghost right now. Or just a locksmith. He of course knew how to pick locks. When you were born on the south side it was taught to you as a toddler. Unfortunately his paranoia had taken over when he bought the lock, it was impossible to pick open. He had tried it before, and failed miserably, that time with a smile.

Mickey closed his eyes. Maybe the key was in his pocket? Maybe he was just really bad at searching for it? He slowly traced the lining of his jeans. He breathed in, heavily. Then he put his hand in his pocket. With his eyes still closed, he started to search. His pocket wasn't big enough for anything to actually disappear in there. His hand came up empty handed.

\- Fucking hell! Stupid fucking asshole...  
Mid sentence he realised he was yelling. Yelling loudly. Someone in the building was bound to hear him. Fuck it, maybe they could help him?

Mickey sat down in front of the door, head between his legs. He was so tired, all he wanted to do was to go to bed. Work had been a bitch, other people suck. Why did he actually spend time with them? He could be content all on his own.

He was so deep into his own thoughts that he missed the steps sounding from the stairs. And suddenly there was two shoes standing in front of him. Two shoes of dark leather, with the laces done neatly. The shoes were used, maybe three or four years old, but well kept. They were quite big, male, definitely male. 

\- Are you okay? The male shoes said, or the head bove them. Mickey stayed silent. The guy had probably heard him yell, he would think he was a total nutcase. 

\- Yeah... Mickey didn't want to tell this guy anything. He was still just looking at his shoes. 

\- Hey man, what is it? The guy was persistent. God, Mickey really didn't like people. The guy had a soothing voice though. It was almost nice. Mickey let out a chuckle at the thought of it.

\- I... I forgot my key. And the door locks from the inside. So, now I have to call a locksmith or some shit like that. Mickey was still looking at the shoes. The guy would probably look awful, and right now the picture of him was too nice to be changed by reality.

\- Ey, I know how to pick a lock if you want me to?

\- I fucking know how to pick a lock, I am not stupid! Mickey looked up. Big mistake, the guy was nicer than the picture in his head. Green eyes, ginger, tall, muscular. He was wearing a thin gray t-shirt and dark jeans. He had a backpack slung over one of his shoulders. A smile spread over the guys face. A no teeth massive smile. Then he opened that stupid mouth again.

\- I don't doubt that. So why is this one a problem?

Finding words, something Mickey should be doing just about now. Instead his thoughts were stuck on this guys face. 

\- What...? Eh... He had to pull himself together. This was not how a straight normal guy would act. His father would not be proud.

\- The door, well I got this lock that can't be picked open. Again a smile appeared on the guy's face. What was his deal?

\- So who is it you want to keep out?

\- None of your fucking business! Fuck off! Mickey was standing now, face to face with the guy. Or more like face to chin, the guy was really tall.

\- Ok, sorry man. The guy took a step back, showing he wanted no trouble. - Do you have another plan to get inside?

\- No.

\- So you have to pay the locksmith?

\- Yeah, I guess.

Just then Mickey had an idea. He jumped around and got down on all four in one swift move. Then he stuck his hand into the mail slot. Looking through it he could see the entry hall in his apartment. Right opposite the door there was a dresser, big old brown one. On top of that he could see the metal reflecting in the sun. 

\- And there it is! You fucking piece of shit! Mickey was slowly realising that he was talking to the key while the guy was standing behind him. He also had his ass high up in the air. This was not the right time for this position. Getting up was not as easy as getting down. When he was standing the guy had an even bigger smile on that stupid face of his.

\- So you found it? 

\- Yeah, but that doesn't really help me. Unless you have like a fishing pole or something in that bag of yours Santa?

\- Sorry, you haven't been good enough this year. The guy removed his smile and changed it into a block of seriousness. He held this for quite some time, until he burst out laughing. - No, really, I don't. But don't you think you can use like a long stick or something?

\- Yeah sure. Let me just cut one down from the big tree that grows out of my ass. He didn't try to be funny, but the guy took it that way. He laughed, that stupid laugh. It made Mickey almost smile, almost.

\- I don't want to see your ass tree. Can we go outside and look instead?

\- M'kay. Mickey was already heading for the stairs. The guy followed behind.

\- So, what's your name? 

\- Thought Santa knew every kids name? Why ask? More of the laughter came from behind.

\- I am starting to get old, can you remind me again? The guy was persistent.

\- Mickey.

\- Okay, cool. I'll make sure to remember that from now. He could hear the grin on the guys face.

\- And you?

\- Ian. Ian Gallagher, it's my new alias. Kris Kringle is too obvious. Mickey laughed at that. It was a bad one, but he did.

\- Ok cool man. So, you live here or?

\- Oh, yeah. Just moved in actually. You are the first neighbor I have talked to so far. Most of the people here seems to keep to themselves. Like I come from a big family, and we used to talk to all the neighbours, and some hated us. But honestly, it's better to know them and hate them, then not at all. 

The guy was a talker. All Mickey wanted to do was put a sock in his mouth. But he didn't, because to be honest, the guy was hot. And it was way to early to be gaging him. He wouldn't have a chance then.

\- Yeah, people stay to themselves here. 

\- But seriously, if they hadn't you wouldn't be in this situation. 

Mickey stopped abruptly. The guy almost falling over him. He turned slowly around.

\- Why? Mickey knew his eyebrows would have found his hair line by now. He looked at the guy, waiting for an answer.

\- Well if you knew your neighbor, you would just give them an extra key, and this wouldn't be a problem.

\- But they would be able to go into my apartment then. He kept the eyebrows sky high, trying to figure the guy out.

\- No. You would trust them, cause you would know them.

\- Is that the dumb shit they teach you over at the North Side schools? He turned around and continued going down.

\- Wouldn't know. I'm South side.

\- No way man. You wouldn't be giving your key to someone in the South Side unless you wanted to lose all your shit. He chuckled as he reached the end of the stairs and continued towards the door.

\- No. You just didn't know your neighbors, that's why.

\- Well fuck if I care man. It won't help me now anyway.

 

***

 

\- What do you think of this? Ian was standing on the other side of the road holding a thin piece of wood over his head. 

\- Naah, I won't be able to get it underneath the key ring. It's too thick. He waved the thing off, and continued down the road. 

They had been looking for about ten minutes. By then Mickey had learnt that Ian had five other siblings, not uncommon on the South Side. Mickey had been told the name of each sibling, their age and all the funny, stupid stories about the younger ones. Ian had been in the military for two years and had just come back for some reason he didn't want to say. He now wanted to go to university and possibly study psychology. 

Mickey had also realised who Ian actually was. Son of Frank Gallagher, some piece of shit drunk from the South Side. Ian seemed to agree with him on that one. 

What Mickey had told Ian involved his last name and his current job. There weren't much to tell really. And he didn't like telling.

Mickey stepped on a pair of nails, laying along side the road. He bent down and picked them up.

\- Did you leave the long piece of wood you found?

\- Well yeah, you said it was no good. So I chucked it back. Ian looked puzzled, trying to figure out what he meant.

\- Can you find it again? Mickey felt like he was talking to a five year old. Was it not obvious what he wanted?

Ian ran back, and Mickey followed in a walk. Ian lifted the wood high over his head triumphantly, smiling from ear to ear.

\- I thought it was all wrong? Too thick right?

\- Yeah, yeah. Shut up and find me a rock. Mickey already had his head turned down to the ground. 

\- Why?

\- I don't have a hammer, so I need a rock. Mickey looked up at Ian, who had that puzzled face again. - Just find one? I'll show you.

\- Ok. Ian concentrated his eyes on the ground. - Here! Rock! Not too big though. 

Ian held out the rock and the wood for Mickey to take it. He did, and put it all on the ground. He held the nail over the end of the piece of wood with the pointy end down. He then started to bang it with the rock, careful not to hit his fingers. When it was through to the other side he turned the wood over. He then banged on the actual wood until the nail was all the way through. He now had a piece of wood with a nail at the end at a 90 degree angle. The pointy side out. He smiled proudly at Ian. 

\- And you think that will work?

\- We'll see.

 

***

 

\- Fuckin' hell! Why is this so fucking hard?

\- Can I try?

\- No! I am going to do this.

Mickey had been trying for fifteen minutes. He had almost had it on like ten times. Everytime it had slipped off just as he tried to lift it up. 

\- Ey man. If this doesn't work we can always call a locksmith and you can just hang out at my place until he shows up? Get a beer? Ian had been standing behind him the entire time waiting.

\- No. But thanks man. You can go if you got things to do. I got this. Mickey didn't really want Ian to go. He didn't mind having him around.

\- No, I'll wait. Can be your knight in shining armour when this shit doesn't work out.

\- Shut up. Don't you doubt my methods. Mickey, himself, was starting doubt it though. And a cold beer with Ian did sound alright.

Just as Mickey was about to give up the key slid on the nail when he lifted it up. He stopped breathing for a while. He could not lose this key now. He slowly started to pull the hole pole out of the mail slot. His arm was aching. He hadn't realised before, but now that the desperation was gone and the relief kicked in so did his tiredness. The amount of stuff he had already lifted today at work did really not help him. His arm started to shake.

\- You need some help there? Mickey could hear Ian coming closer from behind. 

\- Yeah. Arms tired. Can you take it?

Ian sat down right behind him. They were close, Mickey could feel Ian breathing down his neck. This did really not help his concentration. After what seemed like a life time of closeness, Ian grabbed the piece of wood that pocked out from under Mickey's arm. He slowly took control of the wood.

\- Okay, I got it. You can let go.

Mickey got up slowly, he tried to avoid putting his ass in Ian's face. He let Ian take the full weight. It wasn't really heavy, just his arms and all of him was too tired. 

Ian pulled it out slowly, making sure the key stayed on. As soon as Mickey could see the keys Ian grabbed them. They both jumped to their feet, hands high in the air. 

\- We fucking did it! No way! No way! It actually worked Mick! This is crazy! Ian was screaming at the top of his lungs. He couldn't do anything else than laugh and smile. This guy, with the shoes and the Santa complex, he was amazing

\- Come on man, lets open the door. Mickey took the key from Ian and did the familiar motion of sliding it in to the lock. He twisted, and just like that he was back. All his stuff and his entire life was back on track. He no longer had any worries. He could really do with some sleep now. There was just one guy he had to thank first.

\- Hey, you know what the winner of the fishing contest gets? Free beer. A big smile appeared on Ian's face. 

Mickey went over to the fridge and found two bottles. He opened them and handed one to Ian. 

\- Ey, like really, thanks man. Couldn't have done this without you. 

\- No problem, but you know there is one thing you can do for me.

\- What? Mickey's eyebrows shoot up in the air.

\- Give me a spare key.

**Author's Note:**

> Wiiiiii! Thanks for reading! Hope enjoyed this experience and that I did not waste your time.  
> This is the first fic I have ever written. So yes I was a fic virgin, lets not make a big deal of it. This was a pleasant experience for me, so maybe I'll make more?


End file.
